


Breathe

by metalmeisje



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub, M/M, sexy times with my two favorite boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2860037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalmeisje/pseuds/metalmeisje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xephos has trouble asking for something and Sips demands answers. Pure smut, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractalanatomy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalanatomy/gifts).



> For fractalanatomy. You bring out the worst in me, which is really the best. <3

_and I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd_  
 _cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud  
_ _and I know that you'll use them, however you want to_

_~_

Sips doesn’t usually outright ask questions that he really wants an answer to and Xephos has gotten used to that. When they’re working in the factory, fiddling with machinery that has a tendency to break at the most inopportune moments or trying to find ways to distillate illicit substances from whatever they have on hand, Sips wraps the things he doesn’t understand in snarky comments that always make Xephos smile. And he knows how to answer without being obvious about it, working silently while his boss watches and learns. It’s an agreeable status quo that he wouldn’t give up any time soon – as much as he has a tendency to ramble to whoever wants to listen (or doesn’t want to listen, really), this is a nice way of working together that has settled into place without needing an explanation.

In fact, Xephos has gotten so used to dancing around answers that he’s not sure what to do, now.

“Tell me what you want. And don’t make me ask again, bitch.”

Maybe it’s the lack of reassurance that the safe surroundings of the work floor usually provide; or maybe it’s the fact that he currently has his legs hooked over Sips’ shoulders and two fingers up his ass, pushing in mercilessly and wrenching little spasms and moans from the spaceman without giving him time to come up for air. It makes it hard for Xephos to think, to wrap his head around the words that he knows Sips is waiting for, so he blinks the hazy feeling away and lifts his head from the bed just a little to try and focus.

“Fuck, I want… This. You. I-“

Sips rolls his eyes in obvious exasperation and pushes his fingers up forcefully, smothering the sound his poor spaceman makes with an angry kiss. It’s part annoyance, part desperation; Xephos needs to learn to answer properly –he didn’t say please and come on, Sips _knows_ Xephos wants him. It’s obvious from the way he falls apart with every carefully dealt blow, literal or otherwise, and the way he will fuck himself on Sips’ fingers through the pain if Sips lets him.

The CEO watches Xephos carefully, takes in the sight of unfocused eyes that glow with an eeriness that he fails to understand. He’s like a flipping glow stick, that colleague and toy of his that he loves to break so much.

“That’s not a fucking answer and you know it. What. Do. You. Want.”

Every word is emphasized by a sharp thrust of confident fingers, curling up and stroking the spaceman’s insides with so much force that Sips can’t help but grin at how Xephos barely manages to keep his eyes open. Stocky, grey fingers trace over a narrow chest that expands with every desperate gasp, leaving starlight in their wake and scratching it away with sharp nails before it flares up again with renewed force. Shit, Xeph’s so thin – for a moment, Sips is impressed with how eagerly his employee always throws himself into everything Sips offers when he barely has any meat on his body to break the fall.

Xephos moans, a sad little sound that he can’t keep inside when he’s being played like this, and winces at how pathetic he sounds. He’s not even sure what Sips wants to hear and he wants to be good, wants to do what Sips orders him to, but every sharp thrust from Sips’ fingers hits straight home and cuts off the attempts at a proper response.

Still, he tries. Xephos ignores the strain in his neck and meets Sips’ eyes with a combination of shame and something close to the defiance that he usually leaves behind as soon as they are alone. Sips bares his teeth and pushes another finger in, pushes through the resistance, but Xephos keeps his head up and chews on his lip until everything tastes like copper to stop himself from falling back on the bed in defeat. The idea of regret pops up for a moment but it fades away quickly, obscured by the way he’s stretched open and the smell of sweat and dirt in his nostrils.

Even though Sips manages to lay him bare without any trouble, exposing every nerve ending with cruel commands and a ferocity that sometimes scares Xephos, there are some things that the spaceman is loath to share even when he’s dangling over the edge with nothing to cushion the fall. Maybe it’s stupid, because no matter how much some things mean to him, he’s learnt not to expect the same from others.

But no one has ever accused him of being smart.

Xephos shoves everything else away and tilts his hips, taking Sips’ fingers in even deeper and ignoring for a split second the rush of heat that spreads through his veins like wildfire.

“Oblivion.”

Somehow, Sips manages to snort at that. He isn’t a man for big and philosophical questions, thank you very much: he has his factory and his toys to play with and sure, even the owner of a dirt factory thinks about other things than mud and women and booze every once in a while, but Xephos takes the cake when it comes to vague ideas that don’t even make sense. _Oblivion_ , what kind of an answer is that? Shit.

Sips’ eyes narrow in understanding anyway. It’s a game they play and hell if it isn’t his favourite game in the world. Actually, if he does say so himself, he’s pretty damn good at it. The best. But it’s a serious game and Xephos isn’t the only one that recognizes a question even when it’s wrapped in a poor excuse for it.

Without wasting another moment, Sips grins approvingly and pulls his fingers back. Xephos whines at the loss and honestly, Sips will never grow tired of that sound.

“Don’t say I don’t ever do anything for you.”

The bed shakes a little underneath them as Sips finally replaces his fingers with his cock and Xephos nearly chokes in relief, silently grateful that they managed to last long enough today to forego the desk and settle on the softness of a mattress instead. He’s not even sure what he asks for but he mutters something inaudible anyway, watching the silent intent in Sips’ eyes as move against each other.

The hand around Xephos’ neck is surprisingly gentle, familiar calloused fingers pressing into the already bruised skin of his throat. He feels his heartbeat flutter against the contact, a frantic rhythm that he never manages to control and it reverberates all throughout him until all he can hear is the steady beat of it, breathing becoming more and more irregular as he spreads his eyes open as wide as he can. The other man grins down at him, one hand pressing into the mattress next to Xephos’ face and his eyes are dark and menacing, but there’s something more there that forces Xephos to let his head fall back, moans muffled by a hand that he wants to press down even harder.

“Come on, bitch. Don’t hold back on my account."

The spaceman arches his back from the mattress, bending his spine to fold himself against the body on top of him even more so than before. It’s ecstasy and agony all at once and if Sips didn’t know better he would probably think the spaceman was scared by now, breath escaping in stuttering little gasps as the pressure on his airway is increased even more, in almost unnoticeably small steps until he feels the world fall away from him and darkness creeps in at the edges of his vision.

When he can’t take it anymore, doesn’t have the presence of mind to keep watching his Master, Xephos lets his eyes fall closed and the fabric makes no sound as he digs his nails into the blankets, scrunching them up without even realizing it.

It´s a shift and a shock and then Xephos almost sobs in relief when stars burst into life behind his eyelids, lighting up the void that scares him as much as it draws him in. For a few endless heartbeats he hovers there, on the edge of the explosion, and he almost starts kicking but the fire in his stomach and the heavy weight of Sips on top of him stops him, renders everything null and void. The tension rises, rises before it breaks with the echo of rolling thunder in his ears.

Xephos gasps for breath without realizing it and Sips crashes their lips together as he himself tenses and thrusts a few last times, their bodies so close _so close_ and they hold each other like only they can, a strange mix of intimacy and something dark and wonderful that keeps drawing them in.

Sips is heavy when he collapses on Xephos but the spaceman settles into it, letting every inch of him be covered by the broad body of his boss as he slowly drifts back to earth. His fingers and toes tingle and his chest almost hurts with every inhale, but it’s the kind of ache he welcomes as he smiles into a gentle kiss. After a moment, Sips pulls away and raises a tired eyebrow at Xephos.

“I thought you were afraid of the dark, silkshirt.”

It’s another question wrapped in a joke and Xephos knows he doesn’t need to answer, not really; it’s not like there is anything he can say that Sips doesn’t know already. When you’ve thrown everything you are at someone’s feet, even when it’s just a game and not a serious case of life and death, it would be stupid to think that there are any secrets left to keep. But something in the way Sips looks at him makes Xephos wish he could explain what he keeps looking for.

“Sometimes, I’m not.”


End file.
